Skurt
by elegantlyterrifying
Summary: Kum/Skurt fic. Set a year or so after high school. Sam and Kurt go off to college together, and tragedy strikes. Rated T, just in case.  P.S, inspiration came from the song, Come Home, by one republic.
1. Chapter 1

((I do not own Glee, or any of it's characters. I do not own the city of Vancouver, or Capilano College. I do however, own any interactions found between characters.))

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The first thing that Sam did was to through the bloody stupid box of music across the floor, taking heated pleasure at the sound of the wooden box splintering and cracking. He stared at it a moment, his tired eyes bloodshot and broken. Then, he ran to the box, picked it up again, and threw it at the other wall. It shattered as it made contact, and a chunk of the wall crumbled onto the mess of paper and wood, creating a catastrophe scene. He didn't care. He stared at the mess, falling to his knees. Crawling over to it, he pulled the nearest sheet over to himself with the tips of his fingers, staring intently at the notes.

He opened his mouth, trying to sing, but the notes wouldn't come. It was if he had taken them when he had gone. But he wanted to sing the notes so badly. He wanted to sing them. Tears came to his eyes, his face crumpling up as if someone had come in and levelled his world with a bomb. And they had. His world had been levelled. Slowly, he lowered the music down to the ground, and laid it reverently down, smoothing the crumpled bits. A tear fell down onto the paper, and he hastily backed up, falling back on his butt. It hurt because there were buttons on the pockets of his jeans.

He barely registered the motion, as his reflexes had thankfully allowed his hands to catch him. Instead of trying to stand up though, he let his arms collapse and he fell on his back with a thud, taking his breath away. The funny thing was, that his breath had already been taken away. Squeezing his eyes shut, he pulled his arm across his face, blocking out the light of the lamp's harsh glow in the room. And something was pushing at his brain, trying to leak out, but he wouldn't let it burst through. If it came, then the rest would come. Images. Horrible, horrible images.

Kurt had said that the SUV was unbreakable, impenetrable, and most certainly safe as a armoured car. And had seemed to be. A couple months ago when they had been in that crash, Sam figured that they were safe. Neither of them seemed to be too damaged. Kurt had been jolted a bit, and had hit his head. Sam had cut his arm on the shattered glass of the back seat popping on the passenger side. He had needed stitches, but he wasn't going to die from blood loss. Kurt had smiled shakily at him, and then kissed the wound, like his mother had kissed his booboos before she had died.

Sam turned to the side on the hardwood floor, slamming a fist onto the ground of the flat. He wasn't supposed to have let the image out. It was supposed to have stayed away. Desperately, he pulled himself up, grabbing the sheet of music, he ran out of the flat that he and Kurt shared. He took the elevator down to the street, and began to run down the hill to the ocean. After high school, Kurt and him had moved to Vancouver, Canada. There were lot's of good opportunities there, as lots of good colleges were there. Such as Capilano, for the arts. It was apparently the best on the West Coast or something. Whatever, he had followed Kurt.

Being famous hadn't been important to Sam. But it was to Kurt. They had both auditioned for Capilano, and they had both got into the three year musical theatre program. They were a team, and eventually, the students called them their nickname that they had been called for the past few years already. They had often been found making out in the wings before a show, and had therefore been nicknamed Skurt, as a play on the word, legs. In theatre speak, legs were the wing curtains. But more often they were called Kum. College minds were dirty.

Sam still remembered the day that the first set of parts had been given out. He remembered holding kurt's hand as the teacher stapled the sheet of names to the bulletin board outside the theatre. He was just as calm, as Kurt was shaking. Sam already new that Kurt had gotten the role. It didn't even matter. Kurt could do anything. Sam could totally see kurt as being the next president because of how amazingly stubborn he was when wanting to get his way. Anyways, once the teacher had stepped away, Kurt had rushed the sheet like a paparazzi. He had stared at the paper for a moment, his shoulder's slowly slumping. The lemon bleached blonde's face fell.

"kurt?" he asked.

'Sam…I…"

Sam began to come up with words of comfort, first feeling angry at the teacher for not recognizing Kurt's obvious talent. He had worried that she might be homophobic or something, although it was kind of impossible to be when involved with theatre. He growled low, feeling predatory, and territorial. But before he could do anything, or say another word, Kurt turned around, and leapt onto Sam, wrapping his legs around him even as they fell together. He was smiling madly, and only a couple inches away from Sam's face. Sam could feel a blush spreading, and was about to question when Kurt almost screamed at him.

"I GOT THE PART SAM. I'M HER. I GET TO PLAY Elp!"

Before Sam could react, Kurt began to kiss Sam madly, unbuttoning his shirt already. Sam hated it, but he had, had to push Kurt off. They were in the middle of the school's main hallway for god's sake. The furthest they got was the wings of the empty theatre before Kurt had pulled Sam's pants off. Kurt had run his hands along Sam's naked abdomen, circling each pictorial muscle that Sam still kept maintained weekly at the gym, as Sam felt his lips swell at the feisty kisses he gave and received.

Sam slammed his fist down on the hood of the SUV. Luckily, Kurt had forgotten to turn the alarm off, so nothing happened. There was a bit of a dent however. His hand was beginning to bruise but Sam didn't care. Anything to keep him form the images. He stared at the car, his mind churning up high school images of Sam and Kurt in the car, eating popcorn with liquorice at the only entertainment other than the roller rink at Lima, the drive-in. it had been one of the places they had gone for their first date. They had seen, "Gone with the Wind" on old movie night.

Sam shook his head. He didn't want to remember. He began to jog up the hill in north Vancouver. It was late now, so there wasn't too much traffic about. He was jogging to somewhere he didn't want to be at the moment. But he did want to be there so badly. Running helped him not think anyways, so he would be fine for a bit. He ran until he couldn't breath anymore, and then further. He ran all the way to the ferry terminal to the smaller islands, and Nanaimo, and then he stopped outside a clean looking building on the edge of town. Looking up at the building title, he remembered more.

He had come home from work, and let himself into the flat. He smelled the air, taking pleasure in the smells of cooking in the apartment. It was so nice to have such a talented boyfriend. Without Kurt, he would be eating Nutella and instant noodles all the time. Instead he got gourmet meals. Walking up behind Kurt, he had slid his arms around the slender and petite boy's waist, resting his head on top of his brown, lavish hair. "smell's good!" he whispered, happy to be home. He realized something was wrong the moment Kurt stiffened and then began to tremble in Sam's muscular arms.

"Wh-what do you want with me?" his voice was broken, scarred, something that Sam had never heard directed at him.

Slowly, he let go, backing away, "Kurt? It's me? Your boyfriend? Sam?"

Kurt turned around to stare at him, his expression scarred, just as his voice had been. "Sam? What the hell? You're dating Quinn! How'd you get into my home anyways?" he looked so confused, and suddenly Sam was just as confused.

Slowly, he whispered out a few words, "…Kurt….that was in high school, like three years ago….and it was only for a couple months….she dumped me when she found out….you know….and, I live with you…."

Now Kurt's face screwed up into higher confusion, "Um, Sam…I don't even think I want to know what you're smoking, but I don't know about you, I'm still in high school. And you told me yourself you weren't gay….although I still think you are…" He looked thoughtful…and then suddenly glared, "Is this some type of cheap football trick Evans?"

Sam reeled, speechless, was Kurt tricking him? He was in acting school. All he could think about was the movie "Inception". The word Inception repeated itself over and over in his mind. "Kurt, why would I trick you?", he finally blurted out. A thought popped into his head, "Besides, why are you in a flat and not with your dad if I'm tricking you?" He felt triumphant, as if he had just proved something amazing. It was like he was smarter than Kurt for once.

But the expression on Kurt's face wiped the smirk off his. He suddenly looked scared, and stared down at the wooden spoon he had been using to stir pasta sauce with a moment ago. Suddenly, he dropped it, sauce splattering all over Kurt's clothes. But Kurt did nothing. Nothing about the fact that his Marc Jacobs jeans were now going to be stained with tomato sauce if he didn't do something quick. He was shaking, even as he just stood there, looking down at the splatter. Finally he looked up, his already porcelain skin paler than usual.

"I don't know," he had whispered, and then a moment after he had fainted.


	2. Chapter 2

((I do not own Glee, it's characters, the city of Vancouver, the hospital in Vancouver, and I am defiantly not a doctor. Thanks for the reviews everyone! I'm glad that my writing managed to touch you a bit! Now, I myself don't even know where I am going with this, just please hold on for the ride, and buckle yourselves in!

My muse for this story was a bit of a prompt on tumblr, about losing your soul mate. Of course, I don't necessarily know if that is going to happen with this story. It also came from the song, come home | One republic. Please listen while you read. Enjoy!))

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When Kurt hadn't woken up, Sam had panicked. He had thrown him as-is, stained and all into the SUV, and once his shaking hands had inserted the key, he had drove madly to the hospital, that was just a couple miles away. He had kept glancing over at Kurt. He looked lovely in his sleep, so peaceful. His hair was perfect, like normal. His skinny jeans were splattered though, and in the streetlamp light, it looked like someone had painted Kurt with blood. He was wearing a simple black t-shirt that hugged his body, and a loose button down, beige sweater. It had long sleeves that were still pushed to his elbows for cooking, and those awesome little pockets that were perfect for holding beach treasures and his cell phone.

But he wasn't smiling. Kurt always smiled in his sleep. Sam knew. He knew. He had lain awake next to Kurt, staring at his smiling face in the moonlight. It was supposed to be a soft, content smile, like normal, but there was no expression. Nothing, nothing, nothing. He reached the hospital, carrying him in princess style. He had gone up to the nearest desk, and politely stood there, waiting to be noticed. After a moment, he laid Kurt down on the desk, on top of the nurse's work, and whispered, eyes wide, "…he won't wake up…."

Sam forgot what happened after that. But Kurt had been whisked away, and attached to tubes. Sam had sat in the corner of Kurt's room as the Doctor's checked on him. They had taken his clothes away, and a nurse told him that she was going to wash the jeans. Sam had nodded and said that the jeans had to be hung dry. They were Marc Jacobs. Kurt had drilled it into his head. He had made a book. With pictures of clothing items, catalogued by type, colour, and alphabetized. It was hung up in the laundry room. Sam had to refer to it often. Sam waited in the corner. The doctors took Kurt away for a bit, 'to do head trama tests,' they had explained. Sam had nodded mutely. In the bed, kurt had curled onto his side. He slept best on his side.

When they returned, after what felt like eons to the muscled blonde, he looked up at the doctors questioningly. The doctors shook their heads, they didn't know. Then they gave Sam questions to fill out. Things like:

What has your recent activities entailed?

Have any accidents occurred in the past six months?

Have you seen any funny signs lately?

The only thing he could do was stare at the page stupidly. Twenty minutes passed and he still hadn't written anything. A kind nurse brought him a chocolate milk, and a bowl of soup, and took the paper and pencil he had been given. She sat down, cross-legged on the floor, across form him, holding the paper and pencil. She attached it to her clipboard. Then she made Sam drink the milk and eat the soup. It was chicken. Kurt's chicken soup was better. Then the Nurse questioned him, jotting down the info.

Sam had explained about the crash, and explained how they moved around a lot because of theatre. He then explained the fact that Kurt was quirky as hell and it was hard for him to decide what was a funny sign and what wasn't. Then the nurse had thanked him and left. Sam wanted more chocolate milk. Doctors still streamed steadily in and out. Nurses ran, answering calls from their beeper, as if someone had put the bat signal in the sky, and they were batman. All of them. Sam imagined them all in a hood and cape.

The nurse came back in, and gave him another carton of chocolate milk. This one was five hundred millilitres. The other one had only been two hundred and fifty. The nurse sat down across from Sam again. She then explained that Kurt had been asleep for a full twenty-four hours now. Sam was surprised. He didn't think it had been that long. Then she said that it was considered Coma status, especially if his head injury from the accident six months ago had anything to do with it. But Sam didn't feel worried. Maybe it was the chocolate milk. It made him feel happy. Like a little kid. Little kids didn't have to feel numbness of the heart. Unless their mom died or something. Kurt's mom had died.

Sam was a hypocrite.

Hypo.

Hippo.

Haha.

Sam was a stupid Hippo. Stupid hippo. The stupid hippo started crying. Keening, wailing like a five year old, he hugged his knees, and rocked back and forth. His back was being rubbed. For a moment of joy, he thought it might be Kurt. But Kurt had a coma, because of a stupid hippo. He would beat the stupid hippo up. Stupid, stupid, stupid hippo. It was the stupid hippo who had wanted to go to The Old Spaghetti Factory in Gastown for dinner. The stupid hippo had also distracted kurt while driving by showing Kurt his pictorial muscles. Pride was a sin. The stupid hippo had been punished.

Was Kurt going to die? Sam didn't think that he would be able to manage life if Kurt left. He rolled onto his back, and began to scream. Without kurt he literally had no purpose. The only reason he was in Vancouver right now was because of his boyfriend. Otherwise the stupid hippo would have taken the football scholarship. But then he wouldn't be able to be with Kurt. But the stupid hippo had hurt Kurt. Everything was the stupid hippo's fault. He began to slam his head into the ground, wanting to sleep too. Then he felt a stab of pain in his leg, and blackness overtook him.

**~x~**

It started to rain, so Sam had to go into the hospital. He dragged his feet in. The Nurse who always gave him chocolate milk smiled at him, and waved him on. Slowly, he climbed the stairs to get to the hallway. Then he stepped onto the polished linoleum, and slowly made his way to Kurt's room. He didn't want to talk to Kurt today. Usually he always jumped from his seat after school, and was at the small hospital as soon as possible, but today was different. Today he had bad news. He poked his blonde head around the doorframe, trying to look nonchalant. Not that it mattered of course, as Kurt was still sleeping.

Still wasn't smiling though. Sam would have felt so much better if he had just maybe been smiling a bit. It reminded him of that time in high school when kurt got knocked out on the field. Sam had scooped him up, and brought him to the nurse's office. It had been the first time he had shown the other boy affection, even if he was sleeping. He had carefully leaned down, and brushed his lips softly against his cheek before heading back to the football field.

_Oh._

Sam leaned against the doorframe, closing his eyes. What he would not give to go back to high school, and just be. Not that being at college with Kurt wasn't great. But he missed football more than he thought he would. He missed his glee club members, and he missed being a teenager. But probably the thing he missed the most was Kurt. Kurt awake. Kurt smiling. Kurt laughing. Kurt being a stubborn jackass. Kurt being beautiful.

He rolled his head to look at the small figure in the bed. It had been seven days. Sam had been angry when he left, but something about being in this room drained his energy. But he had to go in. He had to see him. He had to let him know that he was here. Because maybe it would register somewhere, in his head. Maybe he would hear Sam, and then he would wake up. And then he would smile. Sam slid down the door frame, clutching the piece of music still. Slowly, he crawled over to Kurt's bed, and leaned against it.

A nurse passed by, and he smiled manically as she looked in. It was a reflex now. They were still wary with him after his last freak out. Hesitantly, she gave a small smile back, and then backed away. Sam kept the grin pasted on his face as she walked away, and then sighed as she disappeared. He slowly shuffled, to turn around, so that his head was level with the edge of the bed, and if Kurt woke up just at that second, he would only see the top of his blonde head, and his eyes. Sam stared hard at the other boy, willing him to wake up, like he did at the beginning of every visit.

But his eyes remained closed, like they always did. And Sam looked down, not speaking, not yet. But he saw something move out of the corner of his eye. Quickly, he looked up again. Had Kurt just twitched his nose like a bunny? Suspensively, Sam sat there for a full twenty minutes, waiting for Kurt to move. And then he saw it again, a small twitch from his mouth.


End file.
